Changes
by Almost Something
Summary: Most people look me over once, label me “nice” and stuff me away somewhere in the most secluded area of the closet called brain.
1. Changes

_A/N: Okay people, this story is completely new land for me, so please be nice. Reviews are greatly appreciated, and well... I may continue this one if I get at least 5 positive ones._

_**Disclaimer:** No, I don't own Cameron. If I did, I'd... nevermind. I guess you can think of something._

* * *

My story is not the happy life everybody imagines when thinking of me.

Well, when anybody would be thinking of me, at least. Most people look me over once, label me "nice" and stuff me away somewhere in the most secluded area of the closet called brain.

Or they don't pay any attention to me at all, not noticing the girl hanging out with the cool guys because she simply doesn't want to be in the center of all attention.

It's been like that for years, and it's been just how I wanted it. How it was supposed to be. But now... I've changed.

Not changed drastically, only enough for them to start to see me in another light. I didn't want them to.

I'm used to everyone overlooking me, it's okay.

I still don't like being put out on the spot, and I still hate going to public places. But now, they suddenly take great interest in my so-called life, following me around like a share of puppies.

And they see I'm different from the girl they met three years ago on a stormy, snowy morning. They don't know how to act when I'm around, they're too nervous to form a coherent sentence.

They compliment me.

My looks haven't changed that much, but somehow, they think so.

I guess they just needed to find a reason why they suddenly notice me... because they don't want to face the truth. Nobody does, though. Everyone keeps telling themselves that I finally learned to use my looks to my advantage, but in reality, I knew how to do that from the very beginning. It just didn't feel right to manipulate everyone that way, so I kept quiet.

Eventually, they began thinking I was too shy, trying too hard to keep to myself. They turned away from me, and now they're coming back again, searching for the changes they think they've missed.

They didn't miss out anything, because nothing ever happened.

Nothing ever took place.

And maybe, if I keep telling myself that, the world will start moving again without leaving me frozen on the same spot for years.

Maybe I'll even be able to enjoy the snow falling down in a steady haze again, without chills running through my whole body.

And, maybe, I'll learn to smile again.


	2. Frozen

_A/N: Okay, so I'm not happy with this one. It's too OOC and confusing, I think. But your reviews keep me going, and I'll update tomorrow... no matter what._

I actually never felt the urge to meet up with him... it was one of those things just happening.  
I also hadn't intended on missing each cab driving by afterwards.

If I had managed to catch one – or if he would have had the manners to call me one – I wouldn't have been out there, walking down an unfamiliar street in the middle of the night, freezing and praying to who knows who to make the way home as quick as possible. It didn't feel right that evening, and looking back, it still isn't a memory I'm very fond of.  
I was stupid. And usually me acting stupid results in an equal mess of stupidity, causing everything around me to crash without mercy.  
I knew that.

I knew what was about to happen, and yet I wasn't able to stop it.

* * *

At first, it wasn't too bad. I was cold, yes, but only because I left my coat, along with my brain evidently, safe and sound at home.

I didn't read anything into the unusual silence surrounding me – the loss of noise was quite pleasant. But when I had to get across the street, I started getting suspicious. Nothing of the things around me seemed familiar, I couldn't even remember the direction I came from.

Slowly, my mind began to register what was happening, but I was far from processing it as suddenly a dark car pulled up next to me. Of course it was dark... but I couldn't mistake the shapely dynamic of a 'vette for The Gansta Mobile.

I almost smiled. Almost, because it died on my lips when I didn't see House holding out in the driver's seat, but an unfamiliar, leering face I had no doubt had been following me all the time since I left House's apartment.  
I froze in mid-motion, ready to turn around and run, but a sweaty hand was already enclosing my wrist in a forceful grip. I couldn't get away... I couldn't scream. I couldn't even form a coherent thought. Everything was futile. Just so damn futile.


	3. Emotion

_A/N: Okay, here it is... with some delay. I will also update "The End" in the near future, so watch out for any signs of life emerging from me. Thanks for keeping me encouraged! _

"Open your eyes."

The command – not harsh, not demanding, not even _loud – _had forced its way deep into my consciousness, not allowing me to come closer to the resolution I thought was in inviting reach.

At first, I tried to shrug the feeling off, masking it as far more innocent than my mind wanted me to believe, but... it didn't vanish. It didn't even budge, and I was lost.  
How do you deal with something when you're certain there's nothing that ever took place?  
How do you define the ache you didn't know you were capable of feeling?

You simply don't.

I _know_ I didn't imagine that man following me with his corvette. I _know _he was there, staring at me, barely concealing his thoughts as he took in my appearance, devouring me with his dark, unreadable eyes.

I can still _feel _the shiver that ran up and down my spine when he touched me, making me want to vomit right there, making me want to hide inside my closet until the world was a safe place again.

Yet, I know nothing.

* * *

God doesn't exist for me. It's nothing personal, at least not "personal" the way any normal human being would take it, but I he's a book with seven seals to me.

A book with seven seals I have no intention of opening. It's okay to tell anyone how much you love them, how sad the world would be without them. It's okay to hear them say those words in kind return. It's even better to hear them repeated with sincerity, with true devotion. But it's not okay to get them thrown back at you in the name of fate - that's what makes it so hard to understand. I mean... it's commonly known you're not supposed to kill.

God didn't want His children to go around and murder, steal and lie. Yet they started crusades, all over the world, murdering people in His name. Believing people. Would he have approved? Do they really think so? Whatever went around in their heads back then, I don't want to be a part of it.  
Not now, not ever.

I have no reason to believe in Him anymore... God's not supposed to fail.

He's God.

* * *

Maybe what finally ticks him off is my latest obsession with Jessica. I'm not sure he's able to make the connection – does he even care what happened that night? but then again I can't remember House _not _sticking his nose where it certainly doesn't belong, so I guess it doesn't matter.

He literally smells something's going on, only he's not exactly sure what. I bet he has a fairly good idea already, but he doesn't voice it – yet. He wants to be sure.

The way I tried to soothe Jessica was unprofessional. I told her it would be okay, that there was nothing to be afraid of. I told her everything would get better. I promised nobody would hurt her ever again.  
I should've known House would watch me closely, letting the imaginary leash around my neck dangling dangerously loose just to tighten it a second later. I should've known he'd try to corner me.

In the end, he catches me just as I'm packing my belongings together for the day.

"What happened?"

I look up, a slow, lopsided smile grazing my lips, thinking furiously. Buying time? Sure. I could have answered the question in a million different ways, but...

I'm tired of avoiding touchy subjects, and he knows. He just does, like he always knows what's happening around him.  
He's too observant. I can't let him, or anyone, walk away again. They know.

Not exactly _broken_, but close. Close to letting it all fall away, close to giving in.

And still, he _knows_.

Somehow, he has managed to patch everything back together, make a whole image out of the messed up pieces I only call _that night_.

It's always the same. He knows, I don't.


End file.
